Stronger
by Markition Necrovius
Summary: A brief scene during the Dark Tournament. Directly after Hiei's arm is injured, Kurama decides to go and check on him. Never trust a thief to take proper care of himself. Warning for very light Kurama/Hiei


A/N: I actually wrote this for a friend, because she wanted some quick fluff. I figured I'd upload it, so everyone can enjoy it. ^-^

Warning for some light Kurama/Hiei.

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"Hiei."

Kurama lingered by the door, awaiting a response. When none came, he sighed and took several steps into the room. "Hiei, you're sulking."

The demon reacted instantly. His head shot up, his slanted eyes turned to glare at the redhead. He didn't move room his reclined position on the couch, of course, but he managed to glare—outraged--from his passive position, without looking completely helpless.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hiei hissed. As subtly as he could manage, he turned his ruined right arm away from Kurama. "Can't a demon get some rest without being criticized?"

Kurama leaned a hip against the couch, and smiled in an arrogantly knowing way. "Not when that same demon is trying to not pass out in pain."

Slowly, Hiei's eyes narrowed. "What are you after?"

"Just making sure you're well," Kurama said. He pushed off from the couch, walked around the furniture, and stood by Hiei's head. "May I see it?"

Hiei's frown deepened. He crossed his good arm over his stomach, and looked away. "See _what?_"

Without offering a verbal response, Kurama reached down and gently took hold of Hiei's bandaged wrist. Even though his touch was skillfully light, the demon flinched in unexpected pain.

"Kurama, what are you-"

"I'm sorry," he immediately said. He did not let go. "But I don't trust a thief to properly take care of his own wounds."

With the same gentle fingers, Kurama undid the sloppy bandages shrouding his arm from view. Hiei reluctantly glanced down to the scorched flesh, and grimaced. Kurama's stoic expression did not change. He began winding the soiled bandages into a roll, to get them out of the way.

"Have you tried moving it?" Kurama asked when he'd removed the last of the dressings.

"...yes," Hiei mumbled. He'd gone paler than usual, as if simply_ thinking_ about moving the limb was causing him agony.

His fingertips danced from the charred wrist to his palm. "It's paralyzed?" The flesh was destroyed; almost beyond repair. It was beyond Kurama as to how Hiei hadn't lost consciousness entirely, when he'd first gotten it. The fact that he'd walked out of the arena with his usual confidence...

"It can move," Hiei said. His voice was strained. "Not without pain. I can't fight with it."

Kurama sighed, his lips pressed together thinly. At least he hadn't lost use of the hand entirely, but that wouldn't matter if they couldn't win the tournament.

"Was it worth the loss?" Kurama asked.

Hiei frowned, and his eyes shot back to Kurama's. "Are you trying to go sentimental on me?"

Slowly, a smile bloomed across Kurama's face. He removed a balm from his pocket, and began applying it to the blackened skin. "Perhaps." He pulled out a fresh role of bandages as soon as he'd covered the worst of Hiei's burns. "I think I'm entitled to it, after you pulled a stunt like this."

Hiei's grimace of discomfort quickly progressed back into his customary glare. He fell into a sullen quiet, which wasn't much different than usual. Kurama's smile brightened, reassured by the reaction. Hiei was a little happier now. Still sulking, but in the way he usually sulked; indignantly.

"Alright," Kurama said. He let Hiei's arm go, and sat on the edge of the couch. "It should be alright for a day."

Experimentally, Hiei lifted his arm and tried to flex it. He grunted, and let the limb fall to rest across is abdomen. "The next round should be..._interesting_."

Kurama let his hand come to rest palm-down on Hiei's chest. It fluttered up, over the collar of his shirt, and rest on the curve of his cheek with the same gentle touch. It was as if Kurama expected Hiei to melt away into shadows, if he used anything but the lightest of handling.

"You managed to summon the dragon and only injure your arm. Most demons would have lost it entirely—even more than that," Kurama said conversationally. He was just listing off facts, after all. He ignored the glare he was receiving with a practiced ease. "You'll manage the next rounds."

"If you really thought that, you wouldn't have come to check on me like this," Hiei said coldly. With a jerk of his head, he both dislodged Kurama's hand, and redirected his gaze to the windows. "It's my sword arm. It doesn't _matter_ if it will heal in the long run. If I can't use it by tomorrow, I'm at half strength at best."

Kurama's all-encompassing smile faltered briefly. He sighed, as he began putting his medicinal salves away. "Yes, that is your sword arm, but you're wrong. I came up here because I'm worried, yes, but that doesn't mean I think you'll be defeated." His smile returned, this time far more intimate than it had been. "You still don't trust me, even that much?"

Hiei grunted a neutral, noncommittal answer that amounted to 'you may be right, but I sure as hell am not going to admit that outright.' He still didn't make eye contact.

Kurama, knowing full-well that he'd won, chuckled softly. Then, bracing himself against the back of the couch, he leaned forward and landed a kiss—as quick and as accurate as his whip—on Hiei's cheek. Immediately after he moved off the couch, to get out of range of Hiei's flustered retaliation.

"Kurama, what the-"

"I'm going to go track down the others," Kurama said. He spoke over, and ultimately cut Hiei off. "I'll be back soon."

He knew Hiei was cursing, but wasn't sure exactly of what the demon said. The door slamming shut behind him muffled the objections beyond recognition.


End file.
